


there are no fated goodbyes

by trilobites



Series: the day the sun fell [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Mythology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Big Miss Steaks, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Conflict Resolution, Conversations, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Issues, Fights, Flashbacks, Food, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Making Up, Minor Character Death, Non-Chronological, Past Lives, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilobites/pseuds/trilobites
Summary: Where there was once a warped rotunda on a mountaintop now stood a small apartment in the city. The past was always going to catch up to Hinata, and from that fact, he had always been running.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: the day the sun fell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652905
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





	1. searching

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please be mindful of the tags before you move forward. Thank you.
> 
> You can read the first installment of the series, [for the future or things to come](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999699), for a more complete reading experience.

The house looked like any other house in Hyogo—with four walls and an unremarkable exterior painted in a safe, muted color. There was a low gate outside overgrown with ivy and an array of potted plants. Hinata’s grip on the bars of the gate was so tight that his knuckles had gone white. He peered up at one of the windows and tried to guess which one was Atsumu’s. A car drove past. It was the same one that had left earlier in the afternoon. One of the Miyas’ neighbors, now home from some errand or another. The neighbor stared at him suspiciously before retreating indoors.

“Just do it,” he muttered under his breath. Hinata opened the gate and walked up to the white door. He closed his eyes and knocked.

At first, there was no answer, but then footsteps approached the door. Hinata raised his fist to the door to knock again when the door opened. In the threshold stood Atsumu, hair loose and eyes wide. His mouth hung open a little in surprise. Of course, because Hinata hadn’t even told him that he was coming. Atsumu collected himself quickly, though, and suddenly his expression was difficult to read. It was the same poker face he’d perfected in service of a setter’s dump in the heat of a game.

“Hi,” Hinata said. His voice came out in a croak; his palms were sweating. Shit. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first Spring Interhigh qualifier. 

Atsumu didn’t speak for a long moment. His gaze flitted away from Hinata to a group of schoolchildren walking past, likely on their way home from club activities and a long day of classes. Hinata couldn’t look away from Atsumu, who turned back to him.

“Didn’t expect you.”

“I know. I—I should have called, but I didn’t know whether you’d let me see you.”

“So you decided showin’ up unannounced was the way to go, yeah?”

Hinata swallowed. “Can we talk?”

Atsumu said nothing and turned around, leaving the door ajar. He hadn’t said yes, but neither had he said no. Hinata followed after him into the entryway and closed the plain white door behind him.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a bird who was a boy and a boy who was a god. The god served as the deity to the longest and tallest mountain range in all the land. The sun rose and fell over the god’s mountains, and he along with his court were her protectors. The smallest in the god’s court was the bird who was a boy, whose wings were weak with inexperience and youth. He wanted to be a protector, too. He wanted to fly, too. However, he was too weak and too eager by far. That was how it all fell, the sky and the world along with it.

It all began with the bird who was a boy, the boy who was a god, and a looking glass.

* * *

“Y’know, Sumu likes you a lot.”

Hinata knew, and he suspected that Osamu knew that he knew, too. That was probably what motivated him to say it in the first place, just to see if Hinata would squirm. He watched as Osamu cut into the slice of ribeye on his plate, blood dripping from it in a slow dribble. Osamu seemed delighted with this as he forked a piece into his mouth and chewed deliberately.

The hotel buffet was the upscale kind, where a single ticket could have easily bought him enough eggs for two months’ worth of tamago gohan. There were real cloth napkins and starched tablecloths on the tabletops here, with servers dressed in waistcoats pressed neatly along the lapels. Seafood, steak, onion gratin soup, tiny desserts and a cascading chocolate fountain centerpiece in the hall floored with plush, patterned carpet. Hinata was absolutely bribing Osamu, but he was starting to wonder whether his investment would net anything.

“Is that so?” He answered as pleasantly as he could, even though his patience was starting to wear thin.

“Yep. He likes you a whole lot.” He paused. “I don’t, though.”

Hinata felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He already knew this, and he was nearly certain that Osamu knew that he knew, too. Was this his way of telling Hinata to get lost? There was a merciless gleam in Osamu’s normally sleepy eyes and a pile of plates next to him on the table. Great, so he’d spent nearly thirteen-thousand yen to the benefit of Osamu only. He leaned back in his chair, picking at the food on his own plate.

It had been nearly a week since he’d last spoken to Atsumu, who had only responded to him in short, one-word text responses or a quick phone call promising Hinata that he’d call him back later. In other words, he had been avoiding Hinata. Then a few days ago, he’d only said “I need some space” before dropping off the face of the earth.

If it had been like any other time, Hinata would have (probably) let it go until Atsumu came back to him willingly, but this wasn’t a simple fight. The situation had spun out of his grasp, and he could admit that he needed to see Atsumu. It was driving him crazy. Contacting Osamu had been a last resort, so really, he couldn’t have expected much good to come of it. Yet he had harbored hope that was now rapidly crashing and burning.

“You eatin’ that?” Osamu asked, pointing to Hinata’s asparagus.

Hinata shook his head, and watched as Osamu took the entire plate from him. He sliced up the asparagus neatly and ate that too. His nice, serrated knife clinked against the china, and laughter from two tables over rang through the air.

“There’s more over there,” Hinata said, pointing to the general direction of the buffet.

“Yeah? Well then it’d be a waste of food, wouldn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at Hinata. “Y’know, Shouyou-kun, s’not like you to be so timid. Where’s the guy who commit blocked me at Nationals in spite of barely reachin’ 165 centimeters?”

Hinata bristled, but he was too listless to bite out a retort. He alternated between watching the food slowly disappearing from Osamu’s (originally his) plate and checking his phone inbox for any new alerts from Atsumu. There was nothing new, and Hinata was sitting in Imperial Viking Buffet with the wrong Miya brother. He looked at Osamu and shrugged.

“Not here, I guess.”

Osamu cleaned up the rest of the asparagus and pushed the plate away from him. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and turned to Hinata. He steepled his fingers, not unlike the Godfather, and there was no good humor in his expression.

“What’re your intentions towards Sumu? And be honest or I’m not tellin’ you shit. He was freakin’ out but wouldn’t say nothin’ no matter how much I asked, so I’m not letting you near him until one of you fesses up. And I don’t see Sumu here.“

“I don’t have any intentions towards him.”

Osamu made a loud buzzer noise, pointing his thumb down. “You’re shit outta luck.” He pushed back his chair and made to stand to leave.

Hinata grabbed onto the edge of Osamu’s sleeve, desperate and worn-down. “Wait! Wait, don’t leave.” He pulled on Osamu’s sleeve, fisting the material of it like it was a lifeline. His teeth dug into his lower lip. “I care about Atsumu. A lot. If he really doesn’t want to see me, then I’ll leave you both alone, but I think he’ll regret it.”

The line of Osamu’s mouth relaxed a little. His fingers came around Hinata’s wrist and pulled his hand away from where he was still clutching onto his sleeve. There was gentleness in that motion, in spite of his previously cutting words.

“I was just goin’ to get more food,” Osamu said, standing properly.

“Oh.”

Hinata could only stare at Osamu’s shoes against the royal red carpeting as they stepped towards the buffet. Suddenly, they paused, and Osamu spoke: “He’s in Hyogo. I’ll give you the address. After dessert.”

Hinata buried his head in his arms and waited for Osamu to return.

* * *

The timing couldn’t have been worse. It was the evening before the big tournament all the way in Osaka, and the top of the bracket was a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. Hinata clutched at the porcelain bowl of the sink, fingers trembling and drool gathering in his mouth. A dull pain had been growing in his back along his shoulder blades since the afternoon. He’d chalked it up to stimulation of muscles that weren’t used to it during a particularly vigorous warmup, but standing in the hotel bathroom, he knew that wasn’t correct at all.

There was a sudden dripping on the tile on the floor. Hinata looked down and saw blood, three drops of it on the beige ceramic. He searched for the source of the stream, finally noticed the drenched stickiness of the shirt along his back. His fingers came away red when he touched there. He tore off the shirt, and turned in the mirror.

In the mirror he saw two black, rounded horns coming out of his back. They were covered in a patina of blood and skin that had been torn clean through. There were holes in his back; the protrusions were stretching out the skin like a shoot breaking out of the soil towards the sun. Hinata’s knees lost sensation and he fell to the floor. No, those weren’t horns. They were wings. The protrusion was just the rounded curve of the joint where the wing bent in half.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Hinata took his phone out of his pocket. Kageyama. Wasn’t he also here in Osaka? His fingers were shaking too hard to navigate the touch screen. He dropped it several times before he could pull up the contact window and call Kageyama.

He leaned his forehead on his knee, his back still searing with pain. The dial tone was going, the blood on his fingers was drying down and making them sticky. He couldn’t think straight. Where the fuck was Kageyama?

“This is Kageyama Tobio. Leave a message.”

No matter how many times he called, the voicemail prompt was the same. Hinata roared. This, of course, summoned someone at the door.

A knock.

“Shouyou-kun? You okay?”

Atsumu. Hinata was shaking. “Yes. Don’t come in.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound good. Did you eat somethin’ weird?”

“Please, I’m okay.” Hinata didn’t know why he was saying this. He wasn’t okay. The blood would wash away, but nothing would hide the wings. Atsumu would find out. He felt faint, both at the thought of Atsumu seeing this and the pain. Hinata moaned pitifully.

“Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu said. “Shouyou. Shouyou.”

Hinata couldn’t answer.

“I’m comin’ in.”

The door opened, and Hinata looked up helplessly at Atsumu, whose eyes were wide with disbelief.

“Holy fuckin’ shit. What the fuck?” Atsumu rushed to his side and started checking his body for wounds. Hinata could have cried when Atsumu froze, but his eyes were dry. Atsumu saw it. _He saw it_. Now he would know. He would know it all. “Shouyou, what the fuck?”

Hinata felt the wings—his wings—regaining sensation. They were cold, but they longed for warmth. They tingled, like an arm that had fallen asleep after a long afternoon’s nap. His bones were cracking to make room for the wings. He was only going back to what was right, what had always been. Hinata was still shaking. It wasn’t what he wanted.

“Atsumu-san,” he whimpered. “Don’t—don’t call for anyone.”

“Look at you! You’re bleedin’ all over the floor and you don’t wanna call anyone? You stay the fuck here, and I’ll go get help—”

“No!” Hinata gripped on tight to Atsumu’s arm. Atsumu stopped. There wasn’t a trace of fear in him, just concern and determination. More than the pain, Hinata felt regret that this was what it had all come to. “Please, just stay.”

Atsumu let go of him and got to his feet. Hinata didn’t know what would happen after this. Was he going to be taken somewhere? What would we even be able to say? He felt the world closing in on him, so he closed his eyes to the world and listened to the door click shut. The next moment, there was a warm hand on his shoulder. Hinata startled.

Atsumu was crouched in front of him, brows drawn together in confusion and worry. “I don’t get what’s happenin’. You gotta explain it to me,” he said. Hinata nodded, sucked in deep breaths, and stayed in the patience that Atsumu gave to him. He would explain, he would.

* * *

Atsumu stood tall in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and drawers like he was as much a stranger to this home as Hinata was. The span of his back was broad. Every shift of Atsumu’s arms and waist made his shirt stretch out over the muscles there. Hinata watched him looking through the pantry, cursing low under his breath. The dark wood was well-worn, with the corners faded in the shape of familiar handprints. The Miyas’ home was somehow everything Hinata had expected it to be: a two-story with wide windows to let in light enough for the twins to grow strong, high ceilings scuffed with skid marks from botched volleyball tosses. Two sets of hooks where their schoolbags had once hung, two bikes in the yard, two sets of tick marks along a wall to indicate a contest of height.

He traced his fingers over the writing down the wall. Four, seven, twelve, fourteen. Atsumu had grown along this wall. Hinata was reaching to pull out his phone when someone new came into the kitchen. She was an elderly woman, with the same sleepy eyes that marked Atsumu and Osamu’s faces.

“Oh! Hello, young man. Atsumu, do you have a guest?”

Atsumu turned around and sighed. “Yeah. Granny, this is Shouyou. Shouyou-kun, this is my granny.”

Hinata bowed. “Hello, I’m Hinata Shouyou. I play on the same team as Atsumu-san.”

“I see, I see. So glad that Atsumu has friends who’ll come visit him these days,” she said. “But I hope he’ll meet friends outside of volleyball soon. Or maybe a nice girl. He’s not gettin’ any younger.”

Hinata used the same effort he did in saving a waterfall ball that he did in maintaining a straight face, as he looked between Atsumu’s grandmother and Atsumu himself. His expression was contorted into one of horror, and Hinata couldn’t help smiling wide.

“I hope he meets a nice girl soon, too,” he said.

“You’ll keep an eye out, won’t you?”

“I will,” he promised solemnly.

“All right, all right, enough of that! Granny, where’s the tea? You moved it!” Atsumu’s voice went high; it was the register he used when he was distressed. Hinata felt a little guilty for finding it cute.

Luckily for them both, Atsumu’s grandmother forgot the conversation with Hinata altogether as she clucked her tongue at Atsumu and showed him where they kept the tea. Atsumu stood comically tall next to his grandmother, who only came up to his chest and yet directed Atsumu as he poured the barley seeds into the kettle. There was warmth between them, even as Atsumu argued back rudely to his grandmother. She seemed to take it all in stride, like she was inured to it from years of exposure. Something told Hinata that Atsumu had never been corrected at all.

After the kettle was put on the stove, Atsumu’s grandmother left while talking to herself about rude grandsons who didn’t come home often enough. Atsumu grimaced at the kettle that began to whistle. He brought over two mugs and the kettle before sitting across from Hinata at the table.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I told her, y’know…’bout all that stuff, and I think she knows. She just acts like she’s senile whenever it comes up.”

Atsumu fussed with the cups, rearranging them in a constant motion as he fidgeted with the other fixtures on the table. So he was nervous, too. Hinata breathed a little easier. A grandmother’s stubbornness didn’t mean much to him—not when Atsumu himself was the only force that could shut Hinata out of his life just as easily as he could keep him.

“I didn’t know your grandmother lived here.”

“Yeah, she’s lived here as far back as I can remember. She raised me and Samu, since our parents were always workin’. Used to sew our names on the backs of our volleyball jerseys so the coaches could tell us apart.”

“Before the hair, you mean.”

Atsumu’s mouth curved into a small smile at that. “Yeah, before the hair.”

Sitting in Atsumu’s childhood home, where the years showed in the wear and tear on the walls and fixtures, reminded Hinata of how he was when they first met at the Tokyo Metropolitan Gym. Just like this house, the years had changed Atsumu; the mirthful look in his eyes was grounded in more than bravado, his confidence broken down and rebuilt countless times over in the face of strong opponents. The way he looked in this moment was fleeting, as would be every moment that followed it up until the end. Atsumu was achingly human, and there was nothing Hinata wanted to change about that fact.

“D’you like barley tea?” Atsumu asked.

“Who doesn’t like barley tea?”

He shrugged and poured out the steeped tea into their cups. Golden brown liquid steamed up the lips of them and the barley seeds sank to the shallow bottom. Hinata took his cup and murmured out his thanks before blowing on the tea. He took tiny little sips. It was a little weak, but somehow, it made sense that Atsumu would make his tea this way. Hinata swallowed it all and poured himself more. Atsumu didn’t move the entire time, his eyes trained on Hinata only.

“What?”

Atsumu’s brow furrowed. “Tell me that none of it’s true and that you’re pullin’ my leg. S’okay, I won’t be mad at you.”

Hinata faltered and lowered his cup to the table. He was twenty-two years old, had only lived out a fraction of a lifespan, and yet there was another world crammed inside of him. That world was expanding rapidly in the space behind his breast bone, and it was all he could do to hold it all together inside him. Hinata tried to smile at Atsumu. He found that he couldn’t.


	2. parting

“I want to go, too!”

“No.”

The god was often found not in the halls of his temple or even the library of scriptures, but out in the eerie, wind-warped rotunda at the top of his mountains. He wore robes too stately for a mere boy, with the sleeves tied back so that he could attend to his duties. Anything else wouldn’t be proper for a deity of his station. Thus he took to this one small rebellion. The gusts were properly strong at this high peak, providing the god with the clarity to listen to the mountains and the spirits that resided within.

For the other members of the god’s court, getting to the peak was no struggle. Their wings were strong and the feathers glided along with the course of the wind. For the bird who was a boy, the trip was full of struggle. Still, he came every day to demand his rightful role in the god’s court. The god’s peaceful afternoon was thusly interrupted.

“How come I can’t go? I come up here every day, don’t I?”

“After you get blown around by every big gust that hits you.”

The god’s words weren’t gentle, but he meant no ill. He knew that everything that was meant to be would happen in due time. The bird wouldn’t have been allowed in his court if the god had harbored any doubts about his capability for service.

Regardless, the bird’s impatience didn’t wane. With each new day, the god’s court escorted the sun goddess across the horizon. He longed to be a part of the procession, but it was true that he had trouble even making a simple trip up the mountain. No matter what he did, however, his wings refused to grow. Once, the bird had even greased his wings with oil from rice bran after hearing another bird swear by its helpful properties. The only thing that he’d accomplished then was learning how to wash out oil from his undersized plumes.

“So then tell me how I can make my wings grow. Aren’t you a god? I thought you could grant wishes.”

“That’s prayers, and only for the mortals who leave offerings!”

“Does that mean you can’t tell me?”

“No!”

One of the bird’s small wings twitched in agitation. He was disgruntled and ashamed and ultimately dismissed by the god. There was an entire mountain and many things in it to oversee. The god’s right-hand advisor swooped in not long after, with an entire agenda to review. He greeted the bird, who admired the thick, black feathers of his wings. They contrasted with the glimmering silver of his hair. The bird sat on the ledge of the rotunda and prepared himself for another difficult trip down the mountain.

“What’s this?” the god asked, grimacing at the scrolls in his advisor’s hands.

“The goddess has been asking for a special trip.”

The god dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “And that means she’ll want the mirror and everything.”

“Well, yes. She wants it to be held soon.”

At those words, the bird perked up. The sun goddess was in possession of a mirror, one that would grant the user wisdom and truth. Once in a while, the goddess made a journey over the mountain with the mirror, a ritual of reflection and betterment during which the world went dark even when it was normally light. Her procession was heavily fortified on such a day, for in the wrong hands, the mirror could be used for harm.

In that moment, the bird began to covet that mirror. It was not for the gains that enemies normally aspired to, but because he hoped that it would show him the truth that he had always desired: how to be strong. As he flew down the mountain that day, the bird began to make a plan. It was not a good plan. In fact, it was rather a bad plan. This, however, was no more apparent to the bird than it was to the god the fact that one of his own would soon betray him.

* * *

The headache had started without warning. Hinata had been drying the last of the dishes on the rack when his temple suddenly felt like it was being pierced. He only had the presence of mind to put the dish on the counter before he fell to the floor of the kitchen. As soon as Atsumu had seen Hinata on the floor, he’d run over in a panic and tried to pry Hinata’s hand away from his temple. Hinata had resisted, uncaring that Atsumu only wanted to help; the hurt was too tender and immediate to leave unguarded.

It was only after coaxing that Atsumu managed to help Hinata to his bed, where he’d been lying in the dark ever since. There was a cool, damp cloth draped over his forehead and eyes. Atsumu had put it there before going in search of painkillers. His footsteps approached the door, and he came in silent as the night. Hinata hadn’t realized before, how loud and attention-grabbing Atsumu’s movements were. It was noticeable now because he was restraining himself. The mattress dipped when Atsumu sat down on it.

“I found the painkillers,” he said quietly.

“I’ll take them in a second. Thank you.”

“How’re you feelin’?”

“It’s a little better than before.”

Atsumu slipped his fingers into Hinata’s hand. His palm was clammy against Hinata’s. So he’d been sweating. The edge of panic in his voice earlier had been so raw. Hinata felt apologetic, so he squeezed Atsumu’s hand.

“You sure you don’t need the doctor?”

“I’ll be okay. I just need to lie down some more.”

There was no explanation for the pain, but Hinata wasn’t exactly surprised. It had been happening more often recently, just not with such intensity. On nights when he slept deeply and without dreams, all was well. On the nights when he didn’t, he could expect a bout of pain in his temple the day after. He hadn’t shared this fact with Atsumu, and if he did now, Atsumu would definitely be unhappy. Hinata felt a little regretful.

He pulled the cloth off his face and looked up at Atsumu. Even in the dim of Atsumu’s room, the worry was etched into his face. Of course he was worried: one of the first times that Atsumu had ever seen him was when he’d watched him collapse in the middle of the orange court. He smiled up at Atsumu.

“Will you just talk to me?”

Atsumu seemed skeptical, but he didn’t argue. “‘Kay. What about?”

Hinata wasn’t eager to tell him about his dreams. He still wasn’t sure what had compelled him to do that on the night of the power outage nearly three months ago. The secretive mood of a world steeped into complete darkness had made him feel like he could share that with Atsumu, made him feel like Atsumu would understand. If he understood Hinata’s drive and hunger for more, then maybe he would understand this, too. With that confidence, he’d told Atsumu about his fears and had kissed him until they were both breathless and wanting.

In the end, he wasn’t sure that Atsumu understood, or that he wanted him to. Maybe that was why he avoided the subject whenever Atsumu brought it up again. He didn’t want to poke and prod at the strange dreams about falling. What he wanted was right here in front of him.

“You said that there were things you were scared of.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Hinata agreed. “Has there been something you’ve really been scared of before?”

Atsumu stroked his chin and looked thoughtful. “I thought I lost my Giba signature, when I was movin’ outta my parents’ house in Hyogo. I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Hinata laughed, and it made the pain flare up in his head, but he didn’t want to stop. Atsumu could be dishonest even when he was being honest. Fear was difficult for him to admit.

“What? What? You think it’s funny?”

“I think you’re kind of silly.” He hesitated before offering, “If you tell me about something, I’ll tell you something that scares me, too. Something really really scary, I mean.”

Atsumu blinked in surprise. Was it so rare for Hinata to share things with him? He could see the cogs in Atsumu’s brain working hard to make the most of this deal.

“There was this time a few years ago, when I didn’t know if I’d torn my rotator cuff. Doctors kept sayin’ it was torn, so I was gettin’ consultations on surgery and other treatment. I thought it was all over, and I wasn’t even twenty-five yet. It ended up okay, though. It wasn’t torn, and it healed up good as new.”

“Were you scared because you didn’t want to lose volleyball?”

“Nah.” He paused. His gaze was lowered to where their hands were clasped tight. “I mean, I don’t wanna lose it, obviously. But it felt like I was suddenly useless. I hated that.”

Hinata thought he understood. He told Atsumu so as he set aside the damp cloth in the bowl on the bedside table next to the painkillers and water. Atsumu shrugged. He didn’t want to linger on the topic. Hinata could appreciate that he’d already extended himself this much.

“Now tell me about yours,” Atsumu said.

“Hmm.” Hinata tried to think of something equal to Atsumu’s own confession. “I’m scared of the day when it all ends.”

“You mean dyin?”

“No, not that. More like, the day when everything I’ve worked for comes to the end, and I have to move on. I’ve always wanted to fly, and I can’t imagine letting it go. I’m afraid that it’ll happen when I least expect it.”

Atsumu looked at him like he was at a loss for words. His lips were turned down at the corners, and his brow furrowed in the middle. Hinata knew it was strange to think about the end when he was still only at the beginning. How could he explain to Atsumu that for some reason his dreams felt like an omen of the nearing end? He didn’t want to voice it aloud, in case it really came true then.

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” Hinata said.

Atsumu shook his head. “S’not like that. I just…even when it ends, like when you’re a super wrinkly old guy, you still got me, right?”

Hinata stared uncomprehending, until the words hit him. Then as suddenly as it had come, his headache vanished. His heart flooded with affection for Atsumu, who was averting his gaze out of newfound embarrassment. Hinata squeezed his hand tight, and Atsumu met his eyes shyly.

“What?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Oh. ‘Kay.”

Hinata grabbed his shoulder and leaned up to kiss him, soft and undemanding. It was Atsumu who put a hand on his neck and deepened the kiss. He felt Atsumu’s hunger in the wet press of his lips and the heated brush of his palms on Hinata’s skin. This made him warm all over, too, and he was opening his mouth for Atsumu. Their tongues swirled against one another and they moaned in unison, until Hinata started tugging on Atsumu’s clothes.

“Take this off,” he said.

Atsumu did, and they were soon pressed bare together on the bed. Hinata cried out at the drag of Atsumu’s hand on his skin, stroking him to hardness and pressing their cocks together. The slick friction made him arch beneath Atsumu. Atsumu’s panting was loud and uneven to match the pace of his thrusts. Hinata admired the flex of his thighs and forearm as he worked them up in the tight squeeze of his fist.

“Fuck, Shouyou-kun,” he gasped.

Hinata ran his fingers over Atsumu’s thighs and touched him everywhere else he could reach. He cradled his face, sticky with a light sheen of sweat, and Atsumu gave a telltale shudder. Before he spilled over his own fist and Hinata’s stomach, Atsumu kissed the flat of Hinata’s palm. The tenderness as much as the sensations inside had Hinata at the edge, too. He called out for Atsumu and came hard.

When he fell apart, he thought nothing of the end or what would precede it.

* * *

Atsumu was holding his head in his hands, quiet and still for once. Hinata reached over to touch his arm when Atsumu’s grandmother came into the room. She looked at Atsumu then at Hinata, and he saw the recognition pass through her eyes before it was sealed away again. Against his own desires, Hinata withdrew his hand and put it back in his lap.

“Shouyou-kun, where’d you come from?” she asked.

“Ah…Tokyo.”

“Well, you have to stay the night, then. No sense in taking that ride back east now.” She turned to Atsumu. “You, did you even think to prepare to have a friend over?”

Atsumu sighed. “No, guess not.”

“I’m going to the store to buy ingredients for dinner.”

“Granny, I’ll do it. I told you to sit down. Aren’t your old bones achin’ or whatever you’re always complainin’ about?”

For that, Atsumu’s grandmother smacked his arm. “All that time in the city ’n you still haven’t learned any manners.”

Atsumu complained loudly, but managed to argue his way into doing the shopping for dinner nevertheless. He stomped up to his room and came back downstairs with a jacket slung over his shoulder. He looked between Hinata and his grandmother before he turned back to him.

“You can come with me, Shouyou-kun.”

“Okay,” Hinata said, and followed behind Atsumu.

They slipped on their shoes in the entryway and bid their goodbyes to Atsumu’s grandmother. As soon as they were out of the driveway, Atsumu draped the jacket over Hinata’s shoulders. He looked up at Atsumu, who was looking straight ahead at the road.

“You’re not dressed for the weather.”

“Aren’t you cold, too?”

“Nah,” Atsumu said, even though his arms were wrapped around himself in the chill of the autumn evening.

Rather than argue with him, Hinata put his arms through the sleeves. The jacket didn’t quite smell like Atsumu, whose detergent was muted because he didn’t like strong scents. It must have been from his wardrobe in high school. The thought filled Hinata with questions: Why did Atsumu leave this jacket at home? Did he steal it from his brother? He couldn’t ask any of them as they walked the three blocks down to the grocery store.

The grocery store doors slid open automatically, and the store was bustling with dinner-time shoppers. Hinata and Atsumu were responsible for the ingredients for hot pot. He didn’t know whether he had the strength to shove middle-aged housewives out of the way for the thin-sliced beef. Atsumu seemed unbothered, surveying the packages of enoki mushrooms in his hands. Normally this was where he would comment on how ridiculous enoki mushrooms looked, or how he preferred beech mushrooms instead. Today, he was quiet as he dropped the package in his right hand into their cart.

It wasn’t rare for Atsumu to be so quiet, but it was rare for him to be so somber. Hinata had never seen such an expression on his face before; he realized with a start that it was because Atsumu was heartsick. He reached over to grab Atsumu’s hand as he wasn’t able to earlier, interlacing their fingers and squeezing hard. Atsumu blinked down at their hands, then at Hinata. He seemed puzzled, but was becoming increasingly pleased. His eyes were warm, and for one moment, filled only with adoration. At every turn, Atsumu was transparent with him. Hinata wished he could be so bold to kiss him here.

He got no more time to dwell on it. Atsumu’s expression crumbled a little before he turned his face and pulled his hand away, too. Even though he hadn’t expected anything, Hinata still tasted disappointment sharp on his tongue.

“C’mon. I think there’s more meat over there,” Atsumu said, and pushed on ahead with the cart. He was swallowed into the sights and sounds and lights of the store.

All Hinata said was “Yes” and followed after him.

* * *

The tournament went off without a hitch. His wings, which had appeared without fanfare, had retracted just as quietly. Overnight, his back was smooth again, marred only by the gaping twin wounds where the wings had sprouted. He had played as normal, and so had Atsumu. Neither of them brought up the fact that Kageyama was nowhere to be seen on the Adlers’ lineup or how Hinata would wince in pain when he was too vigorous with his receives. This tentative peace was maintained until the return trip back to Tokyo, when Atsumu all but took Hinata’s overnight bags hostage to his apartment.

Atsumu then sat Hinata on the floor of his living room and gathered a surprisingly sizable first aid kit. He cleaned the wounds on Hinata’s back with forceps and cotton swabs. Of course, Atsumu was still been bursting with questions. Hinata felt it in the gentle swipes of the iodine along his back and the pads of Atsumu’s fingers sticking to his skin. So he explained to Atsumu the best that he could. It was difficult for him to put it into words when all of it was scattered into a kaleidoscope of memories and moments.

“So you were…like a tengu in your past life.”

“I guess.” A tengu. Hinata hadn’t thought of it like that before. He supposed that it was what it was. “Is any of this sinking in for you? Do you actually believe this?”

Atsumu was pressing gauze to one of the wounds, applying tape in neat strips that would bend along with the natural contours of his back. “What else am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know.”

Atsumu paused. “‘You’re really greedy for a mortal…’” he murmured.

“What?”

“You said that to me, when we first, uh, y’know.”

Hinata remembered a lot of things about that night—Lucifer Dogfish, Atsumu looking at him expectantly, pushing him down on his bed, being held in his arms in the deep summer night—but not that. He searched his memories and found no recollection.

“Did you know then, too?”

“No.” Hinata clutched at his head. This was absurd. If it weren’t for the holes on his back, he would have thought he was going crazy. However, neither he nor Atsumu could deny what they’d seen, the blood that they cleaned up together on the hotel floor. Atsumu taped up the last of the dressings, and disposed of the wrappings and his nitrile gloves. Hinata turned in his seat and looked at him. Atsumu seemed composed now, but there was no telling if it was just the false serenity before a storm.

“What happens now?” he asked.

Hinata didn’t know. He told Atsumu so. “I need to talk to Kageyama. He…he knows. When I can get into contact with him, we can talk something out.”

“Tobio-kun? What’s he gotta do with this?”

Nothing, Hinata wanted to say. Nothing, because all of this was stupid. But his back still twinged every time he moved, and his bones creaked at night because there were new ones growing.

“He’s the only one who can do anything about this,” he said.

“Oh, s’that fuckin’ so?”

Ah, there it was. Atsumu’s brow was darkening already. He never bothered to hide anything that he was feeling. Right now, his hackles were rising in agitation.

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

Hinata huffed. “Pissy.”

“I’m not pissy!” Atsumu snapped, pissily.

Hinata could scream. “You are! And you’re not even the one whose back is torn up or whose life could be ruined!”

“Oh, yeah, and this is totally a walk in the park for me. Sorry I wasn’t offerin’ to keep myself chaste until you returned in seven years or whatever else fairytale bullshit!”

This time, Hinata did scream: “ _What are you talking about_?” He got to his knees to keep height with Atsumu, who wasn’t cowed either way. Defensive words came out of his mouth. “Who said I’m going anywhere?”

“Look, I watched you fuckin’ bleeding out on the hotel floor and didn’t tell anyone shit just because you asked me not to, so you could at least be straight with me.”

Hinata grit his teeth, but he didn’t look away from Atsumu. His entire stance was one poised for a fight. “I already told you what I know. The rest, I don’t know either. Besides, it’s my problem, isn’t it? I don’t want to make it yours, too.”

“So you’re tellin’ me that there’s nothin’ for me to do. When you and Tobio-kun decide on somethin’, I don’t even get a say in it, do I?”

Hinata faltered. He had been so caught up in hoping that Atsumu wouldn’t find out, and after that, waiting for the moment he’d cast him away; he hadn’t even considered that Atsumu might want something more from him. Even like this, Atsumu was right. What Atsumu wanted had never been part of this.

“I…Atsumu-san—”

“Get out.” Atsumu’s eyes burned hot with anger and hurt. Hinata’s first instinct was to comfort him. He tried to reach for him, but his hand was smacked aside.

“Atsumu, don’t. We can talk about this, right?”

“Oh, save it! Get your shit and get out! Fuck off!”

Hinata watched him get up and stomp across the living room without regard for the hour. He swung open the front door in a clear message before he went into his room and slammed the bedroom door shut. If Hinata went there now, he would only get angrier. They could really get into a hair-pulling kind of fight, then. What had any of this been for? His back still ached and everything was as murky and formless as it had been before, when he’d been nameless and alone. Hinata gathered his belongings and walked out the door, making sure to lock it behind him.

* * *

A looking glass was a precious and remarkable artifact, one that the bird had never seen before. Even after joining the mountain god’s court, it was only through hearsay that he’d even learned of the existence of the sun goddess’ looking glass. A fortnight from the bird’s fateful encounter in the warped rotunda, that very precious mirror would be brought to these very same mountains by the sun goddess’ most trusted servant. The three-legged crow would carry the mirror for his mistress, until the trip across the mountain was complete.

The journey was both sacred and dangerous, for it was when the knowledge of the world could be known to all. According to the older members of the court, many enemies came in search of the glass every year. No matter how the god’s court kept the journey a secret, all were alerted to it as soon as the cloudless sky darkened mid-day. It was a time for the god’s court to be especially vigilant, for even their flightless enemies would find allies with whom to become airborne.

All the god’s court was in disarray in preparation, and the bird was left to his usual duties and more: polishing the fixtures in the temple, cleaning the spears and the shields, helping with mending the processional robes. Though the bird was usually vocally malcontent about these tasks, he had been taking to them with alacrity. This confused his companions, but so busy were they that no one thought to ask him about it.

What the bird’s companions didn’t know was that he was studying. The bird studied the routes the procession would take, the timing of the trip, the roles each member of the court would take. This was his own preparation for the sun goddess’ day of reflection, when he intended to intercept the three-legged crow and ask for the sun goddess’ favor to look into her looking glass. It was this thought alone that fueled him through the endless days and nights, until the day of the ritual came at last.

The sky was so clear it seemed nearly transparent. It was an auspicious day, the bird’s elders said. The clarity in the sky would bring clarity to their goddess, and they were honored to be the ones to escort her once more. In a swift and intricate formation, the mountain god’s court took flight. Their wings were inky black in the bright, blue sky, creating gusts that sang through the air. The bird witnessed none of this. He was pumping his wings as hard as he could to go as high as he dared. Even if his wings were weak, he didn’t fear the height of the fall. The only thing the bird knew to fear was the thought that he would lose the right to take to the skies.

The dauntless bird searched the horizon, refusing to feel the fatigue in his wings. He didn’t know how much time had passed by the time he first saw the three-legged crow as a tiny speck of black in the distance. Rather than be weakened by his relief, his wings grew stronger with determination. He approached the sun goddess’ servant, whose claws were wrapped around the handle of the silk-covered looking glass.

How was this supposed to go? The bird wouldn’t know. He had only planned as far as this, and now the rest was up to fate.

“E-Excuse me!” he called out to the three-legged crow.

The crow didn’t once falter, but it did brandish a weapon in its beak. A humble sword, double-edged with a split at the bottom of the handle. The blade glimmered in the sun and the crow’s eyes swirled with killing intent; the bird couldn’t even let out a squeak of fear in the face of its might.

“I just want to go with you! To the ritual. To see the goddess!”

The crow’s only answer: “I know who you are. I’ve seen you in the mountain god’s temple. Go home.”

The bird pressed on. His wings were starting to grow numb from chasing after the crow. “Please! It won’t take much time. I don’t want a lot, either.”

“Ha! That’s what they all say. I suppose you want a look in this mirror. To what ends? Aren’t you seeking out your own betterment? Don’t think that makes you different from those who covet riches or war.”

Indignant, the bird let out a cry of rage. At the same time, an arrow was shot through the air. Its trajectory was crisp and precise, and it struck the crow straight through the heart. A splatter of crimson splashed warm against the bird’s face and sprayed into the air. Faster than the bird could follow, the crow began to fall with the glass clutched tight in his claws. To his death, he wouldn’t fail his mistress.

The bird screeched in horror. Perhaps if his wings were stronger, he could have caught the crow and the mirror both. As he was, there was only the option to watch helplessly as they fell like sprinklings of stardust in the night. Unlike stardust, the crow and the mirror would crash to the ground. Somewhere in the distance, the little bird knew that the mirror had shattered.


	3. reuniting

It was falling. A glass from the cupboard overhead. Hinata caught it just in time, before it flew into a hundred different pieces across the kitchen. It landed with a quiet ‘clink!’ in his hands, and Atsumu turned to him with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Thanks. Granny woulda killed me for that.”

Hinata placed the glass back into the cupboard, where Atsumu had been digging in search of a mug for tea. He pulled out a small blue cup and offered it to Atsumu.

“I think this one works,” he said.

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

Atsumu took it and busied himself with pouring out tea. His shoulders were more relaxed than they’d been earlier in Hinata’s visit, and he was only quiet now because he was methodically pouring out the tea. Dinner had loosened him up, and he was putting together a tray of fruit and tea. He took it to his grandmother in her room, and they exchanged a few words. Hinata could only make out the tail end of it: “Yeah, I know, Granny. Night.” Atsumu came to the foot of the stairs with a sour look on his face.

“You wanna go up?”

“Yes.”

The stairs up to Atsumu’s room were well-trodden, with the flooring down the middle worn down more than the sides. Atsumu’s room was connected to his brother’s by the balcony. He opened the door and let Hinata in before closing it behind them.

Immediately, he came face to face with Atsumu’s PlayStation 3 and an array of sports equipment along the sides of the room. He had cleared out many things to bring with him to Tokyo, but his old high school uniforms hung in the closet. Hinata peered into it and ran his fingers over the sleeves. They were a little threadbare from how often Atsumu had worn it. Hinata wondered where his Karasuno jacket was. He hadn’t brought it with him to Tokyo, either.

“Did you like soccer?” he asked, eyeing the _Pro Evolution Soccer 3_ game case. It was worn from years of use.

“Yeah, but I’d get bored with it because I wasn’t allowed to get the expansion packs with more players. It’s more fun to just go out and play soccer anyway.”

Hinata stood in the middle of the room, charmed by the fixtures of Atsumu’s childhood room. He saw where the bed had been converted from a bunk bed into a single. Atsumu sat on the edge of the mattress, expression still sour.

“What is it?”

Atsumu’s mouth twisted. He looked like a seventeen year old all over again. “Granny was tellin’ me to show you where Samu’s room is. She…”

“She knows,” Hinata finished for him.

“Yeah, guess so.” Atsumu’s fingers were interlaced, and he was squeezing so hard that his knuckles went white. “Look, sorry ‘bout her. I didn’t think she’d get into a fuckin’ snit over it. You don’t gotta stay if you don’t wanna. I’ll walk you to the station or find you somewhere else—”

“Atsumu-san,” he said, stopping him. “It’s okay. I was the one who showed up. I did what I wanted without telling you first. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Hinata sat in the desk chair across from the bed, a neutral distance from Atsumu, who had only pushed him away when Hinata had tried to come close. He didn’t want Atsumu to feel guilty, so he spun around in the chair and looked around the desktop; there was a stack of old papers that hadn’t been thrown out. A report card sat at the top. Hinata snatched it up and looked inside.

“You were ranked 331 out of 342. Wow.”

“Shut up! No one gave you permission to look at that!”

“I wasn’t good at school either,” Hinata said, smothering a laugh for Atsumu’s sake. He put the report card back on the desk and turned back to Atsumu. “I’m really happy that I got to see the house where you grew up. I’m also glad that I got to meet your grandmother, even if it’s weird. Are your parents home in the mornings? I wonder if I’ll get to meet them, too.”

Atsumu suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm. Hinata stopped.

“Don’t,” Atsumu whispered. “Don’t act like it’s all the end and you’re just gonna get on the train tomorrow and say bye to me forever.”

Hinata put his hand over Atsumu’s clasped tight around his arm. He scooted closer in the chair, until his legs were brushing up against Atsumu’s. At this height, he could look down into Atsumu’s eyes and put a hand on his face. He brushed back the loose hairs of his fringe and felt the tickle along his fingertips. Atsumu didn’t push him away.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asked.

Atsumu didn’t answer. Hinata knew how to recognize fearfulness in him, so he didn’t call it for what it was. Atsumu would tell him what he needed to. Hinata would give him a moment of reprieve by changing the subject.

“Do you know the story of Amaterasu and the looking glass?”

He shook his head. “Only that she’s got one.”

Hinata had told Atsumu the truth behind his circumstances, but he hadn’t shared the full extent of it—not the fall or what came before or afterwards. He had asked for many things from Atsumu, and hadn’t done enough in return. At the very least, he could give him this. He came to sit next to Atsumu on his narrow bed and offered him the tale.

* * *

The mountain god was furious, but fury has no place in the time of mourning. And indeed, they were in a time of mourning. The sun goddess refused travel over the mountains for three days and nights to honor the memory of her most trusted servant. There was a torrential downpour, during which the mountain god held his silence. As soon as the last of the rain dried on the fourth day, he sprang into action. The days and nights of mourning did nothing to temper his rage, and there was no stronger reminder to all in his court that the god was only a boy, in the end. He was only a boy, and his trust was violated.

Thus it came to pass that the bird was to be put to trial before the court, asked to explain his actions. The god’s advisor called it a mediation, but everyone knew what it was. The bird and the boy stood across from one another in the temple proper, where the ceilings vaulted high and their voices rang loud all throughout the atrium. There was a proud austerity to the temple, and the bird felt the eyes of the statues that he’d once polished watching them. In straight columns on either side of them sat the god’s court.

“You’re brought here because of your thoughtless actions that resulted in the death of another. Do you deny this?”

The god was furious; no, he had moved past fury and was now incensed. The bird had never seen anything like it before: the very mountain on which they were all perched shook to its core, and the feathers of his wings vibrated with his temper. There was no doubt that he was very much a god, even if a very young one. The bird tried to stand his ground as he answered.

“I don’t.”

“Why? _Why_?” the god roared. “Everyone fulfills the role they can when they’re ready, and I gave you a role that you can fulfill. Was it not good enough for you? Do you think you deserve more?”

“’Everyone has a place,’” the bird whispered. The god liked to tell him that often, acted like he was worldly and knowledgeable, even though he was still only a boy himself. The bird still didn’t understand how he could say that; wasn’t he stifled by his role, too? He knew that the boy cried with frustration at night, when the world was quiet and no one listened except the bird sitting in the rafters of the empty temple.

“What?”

“‘Everyone has a place.’ You say that to me all the time, but I don’t believe it.”

At that, the boy flew at him and grabbed him by the collar. The rest of the court stood up, then, tense with the need to disrupt the fight. The bird glared back at the boy, seeing red.

“I wasn’t the one who shot that arrow!”

“You knew there were enemies, and you distracted him! How is that anything but your fault? If you’d just stayed where you were supposed to, then none of this would have happened!”

The bird shoved the boy, and they forgot that there was a court at all. Their nails clawed at each other’s skin and they were entangled in a struggle until the strongest members of the court pulled them apart. Their eyes met across the way, and the boy saw in the bird’s eyes defiance still.

“What will it take for you to understand?” he asked, losing himself to grief and anger. Miasma grew around him in a thick haze, like all the clouds from the peaks of the mountain had gathered around him. He morphed into a fearsome and monstrous bird himself, with only red slits for eyes.

Even the strongest of his court stood no chance; no one could stop him now. The god was only a boy, so he did the unthinkable: he destroyed his mountain and the world along with it. The sky fell, and so did the boy and the bird with him.

* * *

Everything was unmade.

* * *

It was all made again.

* * *

Hinata’s eyes opened into the darkness. It took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting in the room, but he saw the clock on Atsumu’s nightstand reading 3:00 A.M. Atsumu’s face was mashed up against his shoulder, mouth slightly open to let out his quiet snores. He had fallen asleep some time after Hinata had told his story, during which he’d stayed silent until the end. Hinata smiled down at his sleeping face. For once, he seemed at peace as he lay next to Hinata in the cramped confines of his childhood bed. As endearing as it was, it wouldn’t do if his grandmother came in and saw them crammed together in here. He turned Atsumu’s head gently on the pillow, and pulled the covers over him before tiptoeing out of his room.

Hinata went quietly into the bathroom and searched for a spare toothbrush. He rinsed out the sleep from his mouth and went to Osamu’s room, which was surprisingly messy in comparison to his brother’s. Hinata was unbuttoning his shirt when the door slammed open. It took every ounce of Hinata’s self-control not to yelp loudly.

Atsumu was standing in the door, eyes wide with urgency. Hinata stared back with eyes just as wide. Atsumu’s hair was standing up at an odd angle, cheek marked with creases from Hinata’s shirt. He blinked at Hinata, and after a few moments, he seemed to realize what he was looking at. His hand dropped from the door handle and he stuffed it into his pants pocket.

“Sorry. Thought you’d left.”

“I wouldn’t. And it’s late right now anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He let out a deep breath. “Uh, g’night. Just…tell me when you’re gonna go to the station tomorrow mornin’.”

Hinata watched his back retreating and the door closing on its hinge. The feeling of finality in his words filled Hinata with dread and fear. He moved without thinking, sticking his hand into the darkness and grabbing onto Atsumu.

“Wait. Wait, please,” he pleaded.

Atsumu did. He turned and looked down at him. Atsumu looked ridiculous, but Hinata could only feel endeared to him for it.

“I love you,” he whispered, before tears began to trickle down his face. Hinata touched his own cheek with his fingers, and stared in shock at the wetness there.

Atsumu’s expression mirrored that very same shock. Wordlessly, he pulled Hinata with him into his room and grabbed tissues from his nightstand.

“Why’re you cryin’?” There was an edge of panic in his voice as he bent down to wipe away Hinata’s tears. “Shouyou-kun—”

“I love you.” Hinata was brimming with fearfulness in spite of his best attempts not to feel it. The things he wanted were simple, weren’t they? He hadn’t felt greedy for wanting them, but now he didn’t know—not when Atsumu had fled to Hyogo and Hinata’s future looked so uncertain. He’d wanted simple things before, too, and had destroyed an entire world for it. His tears fell even harder. “I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want it to be the end, either.”

Atsumu was struck speechless. He didn’t know how to handle it when people cried, he’d told Hinata this before, but Hinata couldn’t stop himself from crying so bitterly.

“You said not to act like it was the end, that I was leaving you. But you ran away, too!” He swung at Atsumu’s chest, then at his arms when he lifted them up to guard himself.

“O-Ow, Shouyou-kun, you’re kinda strong y’know—”

“I didn’t want to leave! I didn’t want you to leave either! Why didn’t you pick up the phone? I had to take your brother to a hotel buffet!”

“What? Samu? The hell are you talkin’ about? Ow!”

There was genuine confusion in Atsumu’s voice, and the sound of it was closer and more familiar than anything else that he’d said to him all day. Hinata lowered his arms and cried into his hands, both in regret and sorrow.

“Shouyou-kun…I’m sorry. Don’t cry. I dunno what the buffet is about, but if Samu said somethin’ to you, I’ll go beat the shit outta him, too.”

Hinata lifted his head up towards Atsumu, whose hand was frozen halfway to his shoulder. He really didn’t know what he was doing, did he? His pensive mood had broken, because he was just that bewildered. With his unusually messy hair and untucked shirt, Atsumu looked wild in the night. Hinata couldn’t imagine being without him.

He had lived only a fraction of a lifespan, but there was another world inside of him. What Atsumu didn’t know was that there was only room enough for memories from this life, the ones Hinata wanted to cling to more than anything. Happiness rose to the top of those memories in spite of the hardships and heartache that had weighed him down. He was lucky even though he’d lamented in the past about being unlucky, because he got to play volleyball. He even got to play it with Atsumu and see the pure love and joy in his face every time. At last, there was a way for him to fly. He’d convinced Atsumu to let him, after all.

“Did you know that I’d never really gotten to fly? Before, I mean.” When he’d had wings and a place in the sky.

“How come?”

“I think…it doesn’t matter. I get to do it now. With you.”

Atsumu’s brow furrowed, and his lips trembled; he was slow at peeling back his layers, but he still wanted to show softness inside to Hinata. “So are you gonna keep doin’ it?”

“Of course I am.” As soon as he’d spoken the words, Hinata knew somehow that they would be true. Mere impossibility had never been enough to deter him. He looked into Atsumu’s eyes and repeated, “Of course I am.”

All it took was his word, and relief slowly melted over Atsumu, thawing out the rigid distance between them. Hinata felt his hand grip tight onto his shirt over his shoulder, the other at the small of his back. Their foreheads touched, and their breaths were quiet. Hinata tilted his head and pressed his lips to Atsumu’s.

“Shouyou,” Atsumu sighed.

They moved in unison, Atsumu tugging Hinata in by the shirt as Hinata leaned up to kiss him again. Their kissing turned wet and needy, with Atsumu’s fingers working into the gap where Hinata had already begun unbuttoning his shirt. He stroked the skin of his chest, and down to his stomach. Hinata shivered, and pulled away. It was hard to stay on his toes and kiss at the same time. Atsumu’s hands didn’t stop moving, though, just worked on the column of buttons down his shirt while he pressed kisses to his temple.

“Yeah?” Atsumu asked, hand at the fly of his pants.

“Yeah.”

Of course Hinata would let him. Atsumu undid his pants and took them off, until Hinata was totally bare in front of him. He let Atsumu pull him onto his bed, too, so he could come straddle Atsumu’s lap and feel the solid weight of him clamped in between his thighs. They kissed some more, and Atsumu’s hands roamed over his skin, mouth making low noises. Hinata’s skin broke out into goosebumps in the cool of the dawn, but Atsumu was so warm against him everywhere they touched. He was pushing Hinata off his lap and onto his back, shedding his own pants before he slotted in between his legs.

Hinata squeezed his hips with his thighs and rocked up against Atsumu heavy on top of him. He kissed hot down Hinata’s neck, and Hinata could only pant. It seemed too loud in the quiet of the house. He put a hand over his mouth, but Atsumu pulled it off.

“You sound good. I wanna hear.”

“What if I’m being loud?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he said, then drove his point in deeper by holding onto Hinata’s hand as his lips closed around his nipple. His tongue fluttered against it, and Hinata cried out.

“Atsumu-san.” Hinata pulled on his wrist, but Atsumu didn’t let go. He squirmed as Atsumu kept working his nipple, trying to swallow down the noises.

“Shit. Now you sound really good.”

Atsumu got up onto his knees and caged Hinata in beneath him. His eyes were bright and alert, and Hinata felt transparent in his gaze. Atsumu reached over to the nightstand, sticking his hand into the drawer and rifling through it. Out came a bottle of lube, unopened. He tore apart the packaging, which crinkled loudly. Hinata watched, a little amazed at the tableau.

“Did you really have a new bottle in there? Did you buy it when you got here?”

Atsumu rubbed his forehead, exasperated. “S’not like that! I got it last time I came here and just never used it.”

Hinata didn’t have a chance to be skeptical. Atsumu poured lube into his hand and grabbed his cock, rubbing his thumb up the underside. He was still soft, but the slick friction up his shaft was taking care of that quickly. Atsumu’s fingers were smooth in spite of how much he used them, and they began to stroke him in a slow rhythm. Hinata’s face was heating. Atsumu had forgotten to be cross and was all intent now. He was watching Hinata for his reactions, modifying his touch based on the sounds he made.

“Do you have to watch?” he bit out.

“Yup.” Atsumu didn’t even hesitate with his answer. He just tightened his fist and pulled the sleeve of it up and down over the head of Hinata’s cock deliberately, exactly the way he liked it. Atsumu was a dirty liar. He already knew what Hinata liked, and had no need to watch other than that he felt like it. Hinata didn’t have the presence of mind to say any of this. He only clutched at the sheets and cried out, hips thrusting up as his head grew hazy from the pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck, shit. I wanna put it inside. I mean, not all the way. Maybe just a finger?”

Hinata’s head tossed on the pillow. “You’ll do it anyway!”

“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t.” Atsumu swallowed. He was looking at him so hungrily. However, Hinata knew that he would stop if he just said. That fact alone made him lift his hips a little in invitation.

“You can put a finger in,” he said.

“Shit. ‘Kay.”

Atsumu poured more lube into his hand and rubbed a slicked finger against his hole. Hinata’s entire face was burning now. He clapped a hand over his mouth when Atsumu pushed the tip of his finger in. Slender as Atsumu’s fingers were, the girth of the tip alone was a tight fit.

Atsumu groaned. He grabbed Hinata’s cock again and pumped it in time to the fluttering of his fingertip inside. Hinata couldn’t hold himself still anymore. He writhed as Atsumu worked him with his hands and fingers, uncaring that anyone would be able to tell what was happening in Atsumu’s room if only they were awake to listen.

“Fuck. Wow, fuck. You’re really hot inside. Can I put it in deeper?”

Hinata nodded, and Atsumu’s finger slid in past the first knuckle. The knob of it swelled then tapered, demanding a stretch where the tip hadn’t. It brought with it pain, but also adrenaline. Atsumu was still paying attention to his cock, too, singleminded in his focus. Hinata felt the sensations mounting inside him, and he wanted the release.

“Atsumu, I need to come. I—I really can’t—” He trailed off on a moan. His whole body tensed, and he was arching up into Atsumu’s fist at the same time he was trying to grind down on his finger. He felt completely exposed like this, was greedy for how loved and wanted it made him feel—Atsumu’s attentions and the pleasure he was giving him. Hinata leaned up to kiss Atsumu once, tasted the salt from the sweat on his upper lip, and then he came hard.

After Hinata’s orgasm, he lay there trembling while Atsumu cleaned him up. He disappeared from the room for a moment, and in that short moment, Hinata became fearful that somehow he wouldn’t return. But he did, and he was running a damp cloth over his face and down his stomach. Hinata would have done it himself, but Atsumu was so dedicatedly wiping him up that he didn’t want to stop him. When he finished, Hinata put a hand on his thigh.

“Did you want me to touch you?”

Atsumu snorted. “You were such a mess. How could I ask you to take care of me?”

Hinata felt indignant at that. “ _You’re_ the one who’s a mess! Look at your hair!” He tried to smooth it down. The strands were stubborn, just like Atsumu, refusing to be put into place. Atsumu batted his hands away.

“Yeah, yeah, well I’m okay. Promise.” He held the side of Hinata’s face and smiled at him. “You can do it next time. When we get back home.”

Home. It wasn’t like they even lived together, or had ever talked about what ‘home’ would look like. They had missed that chance, but it wasn’t too late now, was it? Hinata thought he understood what Atsumu meant anyway. He leaned into Atsumu’s touch and kissed the flat of his palm.

“Okay,” he agreed softly. “When we get home.”

The dawn was starting to crack open in the sky behind them, and the window was starting to grow light. Hinata saw this in the mirror on Atsumu’s bedroom wall. If there were such a thing as prayers to be granted, he knew exactly what he would ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "eight" by IU.
> 
> Happy birthday to my little bird. Though he's a jackal now, he'll always reach for the skies. Thank you for reading to the end.
> 
> Thank you to my dearest [seacrows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/papayascents/pseuds/seacrows) for the beta.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [there are no fated goodbyes (b-side)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24848395) by [yeastlings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeastlings/pseuds/yeastlings)




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